Rush (Trojan Book 4)

by S. M. West

  No him or me, just us

  Ryan Adams croons his cover of “Wonderwall” from my phone, and a picture of Eli laughing, brown eyes sparkling and head slightly tilted back, takes over my screen.

  “Hi. Where are you?” I stare down at the samples on the table, trying to decide between the subway or herringbone tiles for the master bathroom.

  “I’m at the bodega, picking up lunch. I was thinking sandwiches. Any preference?” He had a meeting this morning with Bryce and the producer for the movie he will be directing.

  He’s thrilled to be working on this project, and both men are flying back to Los Angeles tomorrow, so their meeting was to finalize some of the details for the schedule.

  “Surprise me. And hurry, the interior decorator just left.” My tone is deliberately seductive.

  “Wait. What? Are you trying to tell me you’re alone?” His voice dips, meeting my seduction with some of his own, and its deep pitch causes my lady bits to quiver.

  “Uh-huh.” I can’t hold back my grin at the eagerness in his response.

  “I’m on my way.” He’s clipped and ends the call.

  I giggle, putting the tiles to the side in anticipation of his arrival. We are now living together and have been for the past three months. While I’d been scared to move in together, and the potential pregnancy didn’t help, all my fears are behind us.

  At first, the thought of a baby when our relationship was so new was overwhelming. I’d had my doubts about being a mom or if we could handle the challenge of a newborn and a child nearing puberty and the dreaded teenage years. But now, if we were to get pregnant tomorrow, I’d embrace all of it with joy.

  And sure, our alone moments are already infrequent. Between Crystal, sometimes Janet, and now the people working on the renovations, this place is a madhouse. We are never alone.

  But we cherish every chance we get to spend time together, and a baby would only enrich our lives and our relationship. And if it happens sooner than later, we’re both ready for it.

  My phone rings again, and I groan at my mom’s name before picking it up. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hello. Did you get the package I sent?” Priscilla always gets straight to the point.

  “Yes.” I glance at the package of fabric swatches she is talking about that arrived yesterday. I took one look at its contents and shoved it in a corner. “Chintz? Yuck. Mom, no.”

  “But Pru, it’ll look lovely in that room.”

  “No. I don’t like it. Can you please just trust me?” I grip the phone tighter than usual, walking toward the foyer at the sound of the door.

  Eli’s bundled in his winter coat, hat, and gloves. The tip of his nose is tomato red as are his cheeks. He’s loaded down with shopping bags, and a bouquet of flowers is tucked into his chest.

  “Hey. These are for you.” He smiles, holding up the beautiful floral arrangement, but it falters when he notices I’m on the phone, or maybe it’s my frustrated expression.

  My mom rambles on with more ideas for the renovations to the penthouse despite my plea for her to leave it to me.

  About five months ago, she gifted me the penthouse. It’s now mine, and at the time, she also boldly told me to have Eli and Crystal move in with me. There was more than enough space.

  It was so unlike my mother and left me in shock. So much so, I agreed to all of it. The penthouse and Eli and Crystal moving in.

  With his outside garments off, Eli mouths, “Who are you talking to?”

  I reply with a silent, “My mother,” and he chuckles, hustling past me with the parcels, but not before stopping in front of me.

  His brown eyes twinkle with mirth as he bends his head and plants his mouth on mine. Mom’s voice and everything else vanishes. My stomach dips and butterflies flutter. I never tire of this man’s kisses.

  Wading in bliss, despite the voice burrowing into my ear, I consume his broad, defined form as he ambles farther into the penthouse. I absentmindedly offer my mother the obligatory “yeses” and “uh-huhs” every so often.

  This may be our place, and I’m having it renovated, but my mom doesn’t know how to let go of control. Most days, that’s okay. I can give this to her. All I have to do is hear her out. It doesn’t mean I have to take any of her ideas.

  Since our talk that day months ago about my father and her childhood, we’ve both been working toward a better, more solid relationship.

  She’s still living in Geneva and working like a fiend, but she came with us to Los Angeles for Christmas, and she’s mentioned transferring to the New York office.

  Los Angeles was wonderful and interesting. Priscilla didn’t stay with us at Gray and Daisy’s, opting for a hotel which gave her the privacy she needs, but she was with us nearly every day.

  And she’s coming to visit for a month in a little over five weeks, and we talk once a week. She’ll never be touchy-feely, and some wounds run deep, but she’s trying and so am I. She’s even talked once or twice with her brother, Emmett. We plan to visit him when she comes.

  “Okay, I’ll look online and mention it to him.” I try to wrap up the call, but she goes on, and I close my eyes, counting to ten, then twenty. “Okay, Mom. All right. I’ll talk to you later. I will. Love you. Bye.”

  I toss the phone onto the table in the foyer, wanting to lose it, and pause to stare at the picture of Eli, Crystal, and me on the beach at Gray and Daisy’s wedding. It’s a great picture, and we’re all smiling.

  We look like a family.

  We are a family.

  My heart swells, and a smile coasts over my lips as I saunter into the living room.

  Eli’s on his stomach, lying on the rug in front of the roaring fireplace. My lunch, a sandwich and drink, is on the coffee table while his is on the floor to the side, and he has a script open in front of him.

  “How is Priscilla?” He glances up at me and doesn’t even try to smother his lopsided grin, knowing full well my mother has become the interior decorator from hell.

  I get three to five emails from her a day since the renovations started, and I’ve got another two to three months of this. And that’s if the renovations are completed on time, which is virtually unheard of in this business.

  “Good.” I get down on all fours and crawl toward him, pushing him onto his back. “Exhausting. She has so many ideas for this place, and of course she wants me to do them all.”

  He laughs, contracting his abs of steel as he folds upward, gripping my hips to lift me onto his lap. My legs fall to either side of his and my knees rest on the carpet, straddling him.

  All thoughts of my mother, lunch, and anything else are completely erased from my mind.

  He’s wearing sweatpants, although at first look, you’d think they were dress pants. They are expensive, super warm, and comfortable, and the fabric is thin—too thin to hide anything.

  He’s hard. His length presses into where my thighs meet, where I want him most.

  I glide over his hard ridge, up then down, and moan, tipping my head back. “Yes.”

  Crystal’s at school for a few more hours. Janet no longer lives with us, only working when we need the extra help, and no one else is supposed to show up today.

  We have the afternoon to ourselves.

  Strong, large hands smooth over my ass before his fingers latch on to my waist and position me just so. Eli flexes his hips, and my toes curl at the sparks that ignite within me.

  “Yes. Right there.” I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and relish the pleasurable sensations coursing through my body.

  “Come here, sweetheart.” His hands guide me down to meet him halfway.

  He kisses me hard and deep as if taking possession of me. And he is. A thrill sears my insides as his teeth tug on my lip where I just did, and our bodies melt into one.

  Gentle but hungry at the same time, he yanks at my yoga pants, taking my panties with them. I pull away, helping him to remove them and then we’re shoving down his sweatpants. No boxers for him.


  Unable to keep my hands to myself, my fingers wrap around his thick length and my thumb sweeps over his swollen head.

  “Ahh, Pru.”

  “Eli, I want you.”

  “You got me.”

  His cock presses against my entrance, rubbing over my wet folds, and I see stars. He pushes into me, slow and steady, filling me all the way until there’s no him or me, just us.

  He holds there, letting me adjust to his size, and then his hands grip my hips, and each thrust is harder and faster than the one before.

  Every inch of me is full, rendering me unable to think. A hot, sweet ache unfurls within me, starting where we’re joined and spreading throughout my body. My breath comes hard and fast and like always, he makes my body sing for him.

  My climax comes first and then I’m urging him on, riding him as his body tenses, muscles impossibly solid, sweat beading on his forehead, and he roars my name, spilling into me.

  I collapse against his chest, breathing heavily, and his hand rubs soothing circles on my back. “You hungry?”

  “Starving.” My tongue darts out to swipe at his neck.

  We separate and clean up, finding ourselves back on the carpet in front of the fire to eat our sandwiches.

  “How did your meeting go with Bryce and Geoffrey?” I bite into the crunchy bread.

  “Good. Looks like we start filming late spring/early summer.”

  “And it’s in LA for sure?”

  He nods, chewing the last of his bite. “Yup, and if we’re on schedule, I should be done by the beginning of September.”

  Eli’s got a busy schedule ahead of him. He’s currently shooting the latest season for Breaking Point, and then he’s off to California to direct the film for what looks like the entire summer.

  And me? I still don’t have a job, and I’m okay with that. It isn’t for the lack of opportunity.

  The board of CE keeps in touch and periodically asks if I’ll come back. Ross was fired, and it had less to do with his affair, which was with Whitney’s younger sister—yikes—and more about his duplicity.

  Ross and Whitney are going through a very public divorce, and from the little I’ve read online or heard through the grapevine, it isn’t pretty. She’s cleaning him out, not because she needs it but because she can, and I can’t say it isn’t deserved.

  And other business contacts from my CE days keep in touch. Bryce has even contacted me for another movie, but as much as I’m grateful for What Tomorrow Brings—the film gave me a chance with Eli—entertainment isn’t my thing, and I’m no longer sure I want a job in the traditional sense.

  When we moved in together, Janet asked for her hours to be reduced as she wanted to help her daughter and spend more time with her grandson. It’s worked out well because we have a babysitter almost whenever we need one, and I spend most of my days with Crystal.

  In addition to the renovations and spending time with Crystal, I also volunteer with her school, and I’m helping Harley with her upcoming wedding. Yesterday, we went dress shopping, and she found the one. I can’t wait to watch her walk down the aisle.

  “We should start looking for somewhere to rent for the summer in LA.” I look around for my phone to make a note about finding a local realtor, only to remember I left it by the door.

  “Yeah. I already asked Daisy and Gray. They’re on it. They’ll send a few names of realtors who can do the legwork for us.”

  I break off a chunk of bread, pausing before I toss it into my mouth. “You’ve thought of everything.”

  He winks and chuckles. “Well, almost. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  “What? Spending my summer hanging out with Trojan, the band of my dreams?” I fan myself with my hand as if I’m ready to swoon, and I follow it up with a wink of my own. “And surfing with you and Crystal? What a hardship. It’s a dream come true.”

  “Hey, none of that about Gray, Jared, or Silas.” He growls, hauling me onto his lap and sliding a hand around my back as I hook one around his neck, and my legs fall to one side. “I’m the only Trojan band member you should be dreaming about.”

  His mouth latches onto my neck, and he sucks long and hard, deliberate, I’m sure, to leave a mark. “And you’re mine.”

  I giggle and lean in to him. “Oh, you bet. I’m your number one groupie.”

  Epilogue

  Eli

  Eighteen months later

  One day

  “Henry, turn. Henry, turn.” Posey rests her chubby little hands on her waist and stares up at her father, squinting under the bright Southern California sun.

  At almost two years old, Posey, Silas and Pansy’s daughter, is an adorable handful. Her little legs wobble with the sway of the yacht.

  Silas laughs. “Yes, ma’am.” He turns to his nephew. “Come here, Hank.”

  “Hey, his name is Henry!” Daisy slides one of the lounge chairs to the shaded area of the deck, and Gray rests the infant carrier next to her.

  She starts to rock her second child, finally asleep with a thumb in her mouth, and Gray ambles over to the bar. Less than ten minutes ago, their daughter was trying to bring us all to our knees with her wailing as she fought her exhaustion.

  In continuing with the Dobson family tradition of flower names for the girls, Violet, Gray and Daisy’s daughter, is just shy of a year old, and I’m the delighted godfather.

  Silas winks at Pansy, always loving a chance to get in a playful jab at his sister-in-law, before picking up his nephew.

  “Children, cut it out.” Gray hands Daisy a bottle of water and takes over with the rocking as he crouches next to his slumbering baby girl. “Henry’s his name, Silas.”

  My best friend wears a goofy grin—you know the one. Gray’s a proud papa and he gets the same look on his face every time he looks at or talks about Henry or Violet.

  “‘Yeah, yeah.” Silas swings Gray’s son into his arms, beaming. “You don’t mind Hank, do you?”

  “I like Hank.” A now five-year-old Henry grins. The boy is whip smart and knows better than to disagree with his Uncle Silas when he’s moments away from getting a twirl in the air.

  “Honey, you better get in shape if this is wiping you out. You’re going to need it with two.” Pansy smiles, and my gaze immediately drops to her stomach.

  “What did you just say?” Jared surfaces from below deck, raking a hand through his hair.

  “Darn, sorry! Not a great way to tell y’all, but we’re having another baby!” Pansy’s glowing smile puts the midday sunshine to shame.

  I rush toward the parents-to-be, hooking Crystal around the waist so she’s part of the group hug. My girl’s coming up on eleven soon and nearing the age of puberty, boys, and who knows what else. Pru handles all that stuff, and I’m forever grateful. With the changes, Crystal’s also sometimes shy, even around all of us, her family.

  My daughter slides her arms around my waist, and we pull Silas and Pansy in tight. The others crowd around us, laughing and offering congratulations.

  “I’m so happy for you.” Daisy wipes at her eyes. “Little Pose will have a sibling, and Henry will have another cousin. This is awesome.”

  “Thanks, Daze. We’re happy too.” Her sister gives her another hug.

  Crystal glances up at me, and her expression says it all. We’ve got similar news, and I wish Pru was here instead of down in the cabin with Eva and the twins.

  “We’re more than happy,” Silas interjects, slinging his arm around Pansy and hauling her to his chest. “We’re just getting started.”

  “What?” His wife is shocked.

  “How many brothers and sisters do you want, Posey girl?” His question eggs on his daughter who pauses in trying to rip off her diaper.

  Eyes gleaming, she says, “Ten.”

  Both Pansy and Daisy nearly choke, and Silas, the biggest kid of all, chuckles. “Ten! I say that’s a good even number.”

  “Uh-uh, not happening.” His wife waggles her finger at him. “Maybe one more—w
e’ll see how this goes. But we’re stopping at three. End of discussion.”

  Posey copies her mother with her hands on her hips, and Crystal giggles at my side. “Mommy, four a better number.”

  “She does have a point.” Jared winks, hip checking Crystal. “Nice and even.”

  Pansy glares at him, and by now, most of us are laughing. Pru ambles up from the cabins with her hands full.

  “What did I miss?” she mouths to me and Crystal.

  Jared heads toward her, arms outstretched. “Who’s still awake?” His tone is tender as he peers down at the babe in her arms.

  Pru’s smile is faint, almost sheepish. “I tried to get her to nap, but Miss Molly was having none of it.” She hands the small bundle to him.

  “That’s all right, she’s like her daddy. Isn’t that right, Molly girl? You don’t want to miss out on any of the action.” He cradles his barely six-month-old daughter in his arm. “How are Eva and Matías?”

  “Both sound asleep. That’s why I came up with this one.” Pru pinches playfully at the tip of the blanket where Molly’s toes are. “I didn’t want to disturb them.”

  She pushes her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and tightens the sash of her swimsuit cover-up.

  “Thanks, Pru. I’ll take it from here.” Jared kisses his daughter’s forehead. “Molly likes the sound of the waves. We’ll get you to sleep, won’t we, baby?” He saunters toward the stern of the boat, cooing sweet nothings to his daughter.

  As the one who most embraced the rock star lifestyle with the attitude and everything, Jared’s a big ole softy underneath it all. Eva and his children are his world and have brought him nothing but joy. If anyone deserves it, he does for fighting his demons and staying clean all these years.

  “Hey, what did I miss?” Pru runs a hand through Crystal’s blonde hair. “Ooh, you need to get some more sunscreen on you, honey. It looks like you’re starting to burn. And a cover-up.”

  Her question is already forgotten as she strolls to the counter and squirts some lotion into her hand. She grabs a T-shirt from a chair.